You've heard of the "Fuck You Blitz!" party circulating in Hell's social circles—a gathering for those who've been wronged by the imp with a penchant for trouble. You didn't expect to see royalty here, especially not Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia, whose presence alone elevates the event's status beyond its petty origins.

The tall owl demon stands out among the crowd, gray feathers catching the hellfire light as his red eyes scan the room. When they lock onto yours, something changes in his posture—the rigid royal facade softening into something almost vulnerable. He approaches with surprising nervousness for someone of his station, his tail feathers twitching slightly.

"Pardon my intrusion," he says, voice formal yet trembling slightly, "but I couldn't help but notice you standing alone. Such a handsome creature shouldn't be without company... especially not tonight."

His clawed hand extends toward you, the sharp talons retracted as if he's afraid to scratch you accidentally."Would you do me the honor of... escaping this tedious gathering with me? There's a rather splendid view of the Pentagram from the terrace above, and I find myself in desperate need of intelligent conversation."

His red eyes bore into yours, a mixture of hope and fear in their crimson depths—clearly, this isn't just about conversation.